


Good Secrets

by VJR22_6



Series: starmoraweek2019 [3]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Marriage Proposal, sorta kinda anyway XD, starmoraweek2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-27 21:34:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20767286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VJR22_6/pseuds/VJR22_6
Summary: One ring in the nicest velvet box, a note where her name is the only thing that hasn't been crossed-out and reworked. It's so small of a thing it's nothing, yet it means more than she can ever say.





	Good Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> For Michael- our friendship means the world to me.
> 
> Starmora Week 2019's day three prompt was "lost/found." I chose "found" and had a ton of fun with it! 💜

Gamora’s so tired of laundry. They’re planet-side, so there’s enough water to actually thoroughly wash their clothes, and it feels like she’s loaded the machines a hundred times. Peter has so much shoved in every corner of their room.

It’s not like he’s going to be doing it himself anytime soon, though. The only reason she’s doing it now is because the piles in their room have been getting overwhelming. And he promised to start using the hamper, so things might start getting better.

Besides, this way she can steal whichever T-shirts she wants to sleep in.

Groot is scrubbing away at stains in the kitchen, and Rocket’s doing the same in his quarters. She can hear Drax tossing the excersize equipment around as he tidies up the gym area. And Peter’s upstairs cleaning all the windows, she can smell the fruit-scented cleaner from here.

She perches on the end of the bed, legs hanging off so she can spring to action if need be, and folds the laundry carefully and precisely. Three stacks of neat, perfectly square shirts later, and she carries her work to their dresser.

The inside of the first drawer is a mess. Peter has never folded laundry a day in his life, and roots through the clothes wildly to find just the one he wants every morning. Gamora rolls her eyes and sets the stacked shirts on top, then starts folding what’s in the drawer.

She’s got a neat row done, and she’s reaching for another to straighten up, when something crinkles beneath her fingertips. Wary of what Peter’s hiding, she extracts a well-crumpled paper wrapped around a velvet box.

“Gamora,” the top reads, in his careless yet smooth handwriting. There’s a bunch of crossed out phrases, half sentences left undone, words misspelt or scribbled out. She spots “I love you” no less than sixteen times in the first half of the page. She smiles to herself, knowing just what this is, and opens the box. The ring inside is a beautiful black, emeralds set into it in a regular pattern. She pulls it from the lining, the engraving rough against her fingers. She tilts it to reveal the message in the light: a lyric to her favorite of Peter’s many love songs to her.

She slips it onto the finger she’d left without a ring, the space she’d been saving for this special thing. Peter knows she didn’t want him to make a show of proposing, and she knows he’s smart enough to realize she’d find this here. This was his way of asking her, his way of quietly telling her how much she matters and how much he cares.

She shakes her head, and retrieves her own ring for him from behind a loose panel of the bathroom wall. While Peter’s busy singing along to his music and doing some cleaning, she carefully drafts a note of her own. She tucks it and the little box under his pillow, where he’ll find it when he lays down tonight.

She’ll be in the shower, washing her hair with the expensive purple shampoo he bought her when they visited the shops on Xandar. He’ll open the box first and find the simple golden ring inside, a small diamond set into the top. Then he’ll read the note, and start tearing up because of course he will, and she’ll get dressed while he figures out what to say.

He’ll decide on nothing at all, and probably just crash into her the moment she opens the door. They’ll embrace and he’ll whisper “I love you” about ten hundred times, as if they’ve been apart for years. She’ll just kiss the base of his neck and enjoy that safe feeling he brings her, and he’ll drop her note and it’ll flutter to the ground, forgotten, but the message will cling to them both as they move forward together.

_Peter,_  
You have always been the stars in my sky, and always will be. I have made a million mistakes in my life, questioned myself in so many things. But with you I do not. With you, I am sure of who I am. With you, I know happiness. With you, I am home.  
And with you, I share a love I know will last forever. 


End file.
